My Way Back to You
Pamela Hearon
MARRIED TOO YOUNG - DIVORCED TOO SOON?Jeff Wells hasn’t seen his ex-wife, Maggie Russell, in years. Yet as they reunite to settle their son into his college dorm, Jeff discovers the attraction between them is still present—and very strong. Yet so are the reasons they shouldn’t be together…Still, what’s the harm in giving in to their desire for a few days? No expectations, no strings. But the affair is so passionate, soon Jeff wants more. He wants what they used to have, only better. First he needs to convince Maggie this is their second chance at love and not simply a repeat of the past.
Married too young, divorced too soon?
Jeff Wells hasn’t seen his ex-wife, Maggie Russell, in years. Yet as they reunite to settle their son into his college dorm, Jeff discovers the attraction between them is still present—and very strong. Yet so are the reasons they shouldn’t be together…
Still, what’s the harm in giving in to their desire for a few days? No expectations, no strings. But the affair is so passionate, soon Jeff wants more. He wants what they used to have, only better. First he needs to convince Maggie this is their second chance at love and not simply a repeat of the past.
If there was some way…
“Stop.” Jeff spoke the word aloud, opening his eyes to stifle the images forming in his head. He and Maggie had no reason to give things another try. Not even the lingering shades of love were enough to dispel the fear and doubt. And neither of them was willing to enter into another possible failure.
Too many miles and too many years separated him and Mags.
He pushed to his feet and headed back to the house. He would enjoy the time they’d been given. He would facilitate fun memories. He would be Mags’s sexual fantasies come to life…and let her be his.
And Sunday, when they parted ways, he would leave a part of his heart behind—the part that lay deep in the pit of his stomach right then. The part that ached from its burden.
Dear Reader (#ulink_ae9c174e-92c0-5552-8c1a-4fb28aff2007),
I’m a sucker for “how we met” stories. I enjoy coming up with creative ways to bring the heroes and heroines together that first time. But I’m an even bigger sucker for reunion stories.
Couples who enter a relationship with a history hanging over them jerk our heartstrings. From that instant they see each other for the first time in years, we feel the pull of that old attraction, but with it comes the stomach-churning fear of repeating past mistakes. We want so badly to believe they’ve learned and have changed enough to make things work this time.
We want them to prove true love is forever.
Making a new start isn’t easy for Maggie and Jeff—their history is riddled with mistakes. The Kentucky woman and California man aren’t the kids they once were, and they’re miles apart in more ways than the distance between their homes. So when history starts repeating itself? Well, I hope you laugh, cry and cheer them on as much as I did!
Until next time,
Pamela Hearon
My Way Back to You
Pamela Hearon
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
PAMELA HEARON grew up in Paducah, Kentucky, a place that infuses its inhabitants with Southern values and hospitality. Here she finds inspiration for her quirky characters, her stories’ backdrops and her narrative voice. Pamela was a 2013 RITA® Award finalist and a Maggie Award finalist for her first Mills & Boon Superromance story, Out of the Depths. The Summer Place was a 2014 National Readers’ Choice Award finalist. Visit Pamela at pamelahearon.com (http://pamelahearon.com), and on Facebook and Twitter.
To Nathan and Misty, whose love for each other is the stuff of romance legends.
Acknowledgments (#ulink_a6327482-1c74-5ede-b833-58bb4e2db660)
Many thanks to the people who willingly share ideas and nuggets of insight, which give my characters depth and realism. I appreciate how they allow me to “pick their brains” when I’m writing a story—and I do it often. With that in mind, a special thanks goes out to certain individuals: my daughter, Heather Blackston, and my friend, Rita Dodd, for their help with Chicago locations; my friends, Dishona and Wesley Wright for the inspiration behind a particularly fun plot device; and my critique partners at WriteRomance—Sandra Jones, Maggie Van Well and Angela Campbell—for their time, influence, suggestions, encouragement and belief in my writing ability.
Thanks to my editor, Karen Reid, at Mills & Boon Superromance, for her generous time and patience, which transform a good story into a great one.
Thanks to my agent, Jennifer Weltz of the Jean V. Naggar Literary Agency, for her perseverance on my behalf and her guidance along this journey.
And thanks to my husband, Dick, whose love and encouragement keep the belief of forever love strong in my mind and in my heart…and keeps these stories coming.
Contents
Cover (#ufcb291b8-08b7-571a-9c20-96e279765da3)
Back Cover Text (#u2e78fe6c-3cda-5e7b-aba7-69f7d9dc9c29)
Introduction (#ue945347b-ebf6-50a0-9365-79cb74f0534e)
Dear Reader (#ulink_cb46ac7f-3834-5878-8737-270e9264c0bb)
Title Page (#u2d7b82b8-1fed-5999-9f04-27a3a9b18cf6)
About the Author (#uabc84657-b4ba-553b-8831-276e5e22a063)
Dedication (#ue33d5ca2-bea3-52ea-83d6-78c7236999c5)
Acknowledgments (#ulink_4a89102f-4855-5a25-8b92-30d542ca4945)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_3d744076-85ca-59d3-ae96-c0fd887a17f6)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_e571d8da-dbc7-5ac8-9fc7-d29e200bfd9a)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_c43081fd-b35d-5f9b-af2f-650e535ad8ea)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_a29842f7-6356-5241-8951-21910ce4ab7d)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_64b58b33-2730-50e4-a140-3f84d7361735)
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_f534d536-9e0a-5af1-a15f-71ad7f1cc0b7)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_39a45d91-cde7-5c2f-9ab7-b4e94ee4b877)
NINETEEN DOLLARS...AND a divorce.
That was what the green jersey knit palazzo pants outfit ended up costing Maggie Russell in the long run, even though it had been on sale.
Of course, the purchase was frivolous. But, at the time, it represented the chance to step out of motherhood for a night and feel sexy again, an opportunity to celebrate turning twenty-one and finally reaching legal age despite the fact she was already married and the mother of a one-year-old.
More importantly, it was the perfect way to shove in Jeff’s face that he couldn’t control every single teeny tiny aspect of her life—and every penny she spent.
He couldn’t control her.
At least, that had been the plan.
Instead, they’d gotten into a hellacious argument because her purchase overdrew their account. Jeff had yelled about her irresponsibility. She’d cried about his insensitivity. He’d stormed out, and she’d taken little Russ and run home to Mama and Daddy—all the way next door.
That fight had been the one that put her and Jeff over their limit—not that they’d ever specified a number. In fact, it was actually the same argument rehashed so many times they had the lines perfected and didn’t need to go through the whole thing again. Everything had been said countless times before. And nothing said was heard. Nothing said was listened to. Not even fabulous makeup sex could assuage the deep-seated anger, frustration and hurt of not being understood. Not this time.
Two months later they filed for divorce. Six months after that, the decree was finalized—three weeks after Russ turned two.
Sometimes, during flights of fancy, usually during the summers when Russ left her in Taylor’s Grove, Kentucky, to visit his dad in California, she’d allow herself to wonder what would’ve happened if she’d never spent that nineteen dollars? What if she hadn’t accidentally gotten pregnant at nineteen? What if...?
“Mom, you need to get over. You’re about to miss the exit.” Russ’s impatient tone jerked her back to the present and across two lanes of traffic. She may have taught their son to drive, but the backseat stuff was all Jeff, the control freak.
“Jeez, where were you, anyway?” A grin accompanied Russ’s eye roll, the combination perfected by the time he’d turned eleven.
“Just thinking about when you were little.” She reached out and ruffled the top of his wavy black hair, a mournful sigh escaping her lips. “Here you are, going off to college, but in my mind’s eye you’re still eight instead of eighteen.”
A brief look of panic shot from his black-as-coffee eyes. “You’re not gonna cry again, are you?”
“Only about this traffic.” She flipped on the blinker and nosed the car into the bumper-to-bumper line of vehicles inching down the ramp to Chicago’s O’Hare International.
Russ’s panicked look may have been an overreaction but not totally ungrounded. His senior year of high school had been a rough one for Maggie. As each of his activities came to an end, she bawled her way through the ordeal of Senior Nights, and when his name was called at graduation she blubbered aloud.
Her baby. Seven hours away from home. All by himself in this city of three million people. Her heart squeezed, and she felt the familiar pang she’d first noticed when she read the positive pregnancy test nineteen years ago and had reiterated itself on a daily basis ever since. Her dad’s sage words followed on its heels. The nine months before aren’t the problem, he’d say. It’s the ninety-nine years after that kill you.
No doubt about it, saying goodbye once parent orientation ended two days from now might just do her in.
The only good part about that ominous event was that it made today’s excursion to pick up her ex-husband, whom she hadn’t seen in person since Russ’s kindergarten graduation, pale in comparison.
Russ’s phone beeped, and he glanced at the text. “Dad says he’s curbside at Terminal 1.”
“Tell him traffic’s awful, and we’ll be there as soon as we can.”
“You gotta be more aggressive, Mom.” Russ’s thumbs flew on the tiny keyboard as he talked. “Quit letting people in ahead of you. We could be there by now.”
Quite a way up the road, Maggie spotted the Terminal 1 sign and started easing her way over to the far right-hand lane. “Two months of driving in San Diego each summer makes you the expert in city traffic, huh?”
“Well...yeah, actually.” Russ shrugged and shot her a mischievous grin. “Or maybe I’m just more anxious to see Dad than you are.”
“I’m sure you are, but I’m still getting there as quickly andsafely as I can.”
While it was true she wasn’t exactly looking forward to the reunion, she wasn’t horrified by the idea, either. Picking Jeff up from the airport on their way saved him the expense of renting a car. And since the next couple of days would require a lot of togetherness, it seemed like the easiest, most practical solution for everybody.
For sixteen years, they’d made joint custody work despite the distance and the expense.
They could survive this.
“There he is!” Russ rolled down his window, and the ensuing gust of heat caused a burst of perspiration to break out across Maggie’s forehead, cheeks and chin.
She grabbed a tissue and dabbed her face, careful not to smudge her lipstick, as she searched the throng of faces lining the curb of Terminal 1, looking for the one that would hold a vague familiarity. Eagerness marked the faces as they waited for the ride that would take them from this temporary gathering place to their next destination, making it all the more fitting she and Jeff should be together again to cross this milestone.
Surely it was that thought—not the sight of her ex standing at the curb, looking trim and fit, white teeth shining against his tanned face, and dark eyes glowing with joy at the sight of their son—that caused her stomach and her heart to clench involuntarily...along with various other parts of her body.
* * *
“DAD!”
His son’s voice, which had grown so deep over the past few years, still took Jeff Wells by surprise. Especially as he tried to connect the masculine sound with the juvenile antics of the kid hanging out the window of the black SUV, wildly waving his arms.
By the time the car rolled to a stop, Russ was out of the car and had Jeff locked in a bear hug that squeezed a laugh from his lungs. His son would never be one of those hands-off macho types, thank God.
The excitement of seeing Russ made Jeff momentarily forget the awkwardness about to descend on them. But when his eyes caught the hesitant smile of the woman standing beside them, it crashed down with full force.
“Jeff.”
“Hi, Mags.” The nickname fell from his lips as if he’d last seen her only yesterday.
He fought the urge but lost the battle as his eyes dropped for a quick scan of the woman next to him. The color and short haircut was different, and the body a bit fuller and rounder...curvier. The voice had grown a tad throatier, but the green eyes with their amber flecks remained untouched by time...as gorgeous as ever.
And those full lips. How well he remembered...
The image faded as Maggie thrust her hand forward in a gesture much too formal considering the shared intimacies that had created the fine young man standing between them. “Um...” The green eyes flashed with some kind of emotion as a deep pink flush imbued her fair complexion. “It’s good to see you, Jeff.”
“You, too.”
He ignored the extended hand and felt her stiffen as he pulled her into a hug. He’d been planning this moment for some time and had long ago decided to get past the cumbersome hellos and move into the we’ve-done-a-helluva-job phase as quickly as possible.
She didn’t give any ground. Keeping her feet firmly planted, she bent at the waist and leaned into him—a hug befitting the awkwardness of the moment. They straightened, and he saw his own wariness reflected in her eyes. But then their smiles collided, genuine and relieved they’d shared and lived through the moment.
Russ grabbed Jeff’s one piece of luggage. “I’ll get this, Dad.” He pointed toward the front seat he’d vacated. “You sit up front with Mom.”
Maggie’s eyebrow and one side of her mouth rose simultaneously. “That’ll give his backseat driving more authenticity.”
“Want me to drive?” Russ leaned to the side to flash her an impish grin as he slid the duffel into the back compartment.
“Emphatically no.” Mags hurried around to claim control of the driver’s seat before Russ could get there.
Jeff was already seated and buckled by the time his ex-wife climbed in, so he had a chance at another good look at her without gawking as she got situated. The years had been kinder than he’d expected, especially considering what she went through with Zeke two—no, make that three—years ago.
Fact was, she looked good.
Damn good.
“We’re meeting with Coach Brimley at four, Dad, at the Water Tower Campus. That’s downtown, close to your hotel. Tomorrow and the day after, we’ll be at the other campus—Loyola Lake Shore.” Russ’s chatter filled the car, as it did any space when the boy was around. “He said today’s session wouldn’t be very long. He just wants to meet the parents of the new guys before the official stuff starts tomorrow.”
Jeff checked his watch—12:52 p.m. “Plenty of time. Have you checked in yet?”
Maggie shook her head but kept her eyes glued to the windshield. “We came straight to the airport as soon as we got into town.”
“Mom’s afraid of the traffic. She puts her blinker on and thinks the lane next to her will just magically open up and invite her in.”
Mags peeled her eyes away from the road in front of them long enough to flash Russ a look in the rearview mirror. “I got us here right on time, didn’t I?”
Russ snorted in return. “We could’ve checked in and had lunch by now if you’d been driving, Dad.”
“You haven’t had lunch?” Jeff nudged the conversation away from the direction it was taking.
Maggie and Russ both shook their heads.
“I have some snacks in my bag.” Jeff pointed to the backpack he’d tossed into the backseat, and it took Russ no time to find the mother lode of trail mix, snack bars, peanut butter and crackers and mixed nuts he’d stashed.
“Cool!” Russ tore into a package and held it across the seat. “Want some, Mom?”
“No, thanks.”
Jeff couldn’t help but notice the white-knuckle grip Maggie had on the wheel. She was creeping along, obviously uncomfortable with city driving and they weren’t even out of the airport yet. At this pace, they wouldn’t get checked in until tomorrow.
“I’d be happy to drive,” he offered, and saw her jaw tighten in response.
“Thanks, but I’ve got it.” Her cool tone said she was already pissed, and they’d barely been together fifteen minutes.
Just like old times.
It was going to be three long days.
Three very long days.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_a7774ea9-0db2-5262-9ce8-c91cefd19250)
IT HAD BEEN the afternoon from hell.
A wreck on the Kennedy stalled traffic for over half an hour, and Michigan Avenue had been like a parking lot, which was ironic because an actual parking lot with any available spots wasn’t to be found. Finally, Maggie opted to park at The Drake Hotel since they were staying there. Then the three of them practically jogged the few blocks to Loyola’s Water Tower campus, Russ pulling the luggage that would get him through the night, Maggie’s sandals slapping against her soles in a rhythmic fashion that mimicked the clip-clop of the horses pulling carriages along the Chicago downtown streets. The trio slid into their seats just as Coach Brimley welcomed everyone to the Windy City.
Maggie ran her fingers through her hair and found her previously fluffy do plastered to her scalp. Speed walking in the heat and humidity had wilted her humidity-control hairspray, and she was certain the makeup she’d so carefully applied that morning had vanished also. Her feet ached from the hard walk in the stylish-but-not-made-for-running leather thongs with kitten heels. To make bad matters worse, she hadn’t eaten since five that morning, and her stomach had been so tight then that she’d only managed a few bites. So throughout the meeting, her stomach gurgled often enough to cause the other parents to throw glances her way and Russ’s elbow to stay set in continual nudge mode. The lady next to her offered her some mints, which she accepted, but they just made her stomach work harder.
The only one who didn’t seem fazed by any of it was Jeff. After one particularly loud rumble that probably registered on the Richter scale, his eyes crinkled with mirth and the corners of his mouth twitched, but nothing more. She supposed Mr. California Cool was used to seismic activity.
“We’ve gone a little long here,” Coach Brimley said. “I didn’t mean to keep you into the dinner hour.” A titter of laughter moved through the group. “Any last questions?”
Maggie’s stomach chose then to emit a gargantuan rumble, which caused her face to heat to frying level.
The coach nodded her way. “Okay, then. The tour of the undergraduate campus will start at nine tomorrow. See you then.”
“Jeez, Mom.” Russ gave a relieved laugh as everyone stood and started to mill about. “Go get something to eat, will you? I don’t want my teammates thinking Kentucky’s a Third World country,” he said before turning to mingle himself.
Russ’s easy manner pulled people to him, just like his father’s had always done. Soon he was making introductions to her, and the names Maggie had heard so often of late materialized into real people.
And then, much too soon, Russ and his teammates were saying goodbye, heading to their new rooms at the residence hall on the Lake Shore Campus. Tomorrow they would officially move him in, but tonight was a chance for the members of the golf team to bond, solidifying the special friendships that would stay with them for the next four years—and for some a lifetime.
Or, at least, that was Maggie’s dream.
She looked at Jeff’s wistful expression as he watched their son walk away with his new friends, most of whom Russ had gotten to know via the internet. Was he sad their time as the major influences in Russ’s life was coming to an end? Or was he remembering that other kid who came to Kentucky from California on a golf scholarship and ended up having to forfeit it in order to work his way through the last two years of school while supporting a wife and baby?
Unlike the rare bad haircut she gave that could always be fixed one way or another, life didn’t give do-overs.
Even after Russ disappeared around the corner, Jeff continued looking. She saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard, then he turned to her, dark eyebrows and sculpted shoulders rising and falling in a connected movement. “You ready?”
Her voice remained trapped deep in her chest, but she managed a nod.
He stayed quiet, too, until they got outside, where the suffocating early August afternoon heat had started giving way to the evening breeze. “Now, that’s more like it.” Jeff slipped his sunglasses on, looking every inch like a movie star.
Maggie, on the other hand, felt like a contestant at the end of Survivor. “Can we walk slow?” she pleaded. “I can’t take another run in these shoes.”
Jeff pointed to her feet as he slowed his step. “Women and their sexy sandals. It’s a wonder your feet last your entire lifetime with the torture you put them through.”
Had he just referred to her footwear as sexy? Some spring returned to her step. “I didn’t realize we were going to be participating in a cross-country event, or I would’ve opted for something flatter and fully attached.”
He snorted. “Being from Kentucky, you could probably get away with going barefoot.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
Jeff gave her a look that said you wouldn’t dare, and she arched an eyebrow in response.
He changed the subject. “Are you going to be okay with Russ’s living up here?”
The people and traffic on Michigan Avenue had thinned some since two hours ago, but it was still difficult to imagine Russ enjoying this crowded place for very long. A weekend was one thing, but four years was entirely different.
“I don’t like it,” she admitted. “I would’ve preferred the University of Kentucky. But we both know the scholarship was the key factor. He thinks he’s going to love it, but he hasn’t experienced a winter up here yet.”
“I don’t think I could stand the cold.” Jeff pointed to a café they were passing. “Want to grab a snack? I know you’re hungry.”
His familiar grin brought a strange tightening to her chest that stalled her breath for a second. She shook her head and kept walking, waiting for the air that was slow but finally returned. “Everyone from here to Navy Pier knows I’m hungry. But I won’t be seen in a restaurant on the Magnificent Mile looking like this.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Mags. You look great.”
Her stomach flip-flopped this time at the compliment...confirming the extent of her hunger. “Well, thanks, but I’ve promised myself a hot shower and a nice relaxing room service experience tonight.”
Entering the hotel lobby brought a sudden chill as the cold air met her damp clothing. She shivered in response as they hurried to grab the elevator. Oddly, in the crowded elevator that was quite warm, Jeff’s arm brushing against hers brought another shiver, deeper and more pleasant—though vastly disturbing. It was as if her body remembered things she wouldn’t allow her mind to think about.
They retrieved their luggage from the car, keeping the chatter to innocuous talk as they returned to the lobby, checked in and gave their luggage over to the bellman.
Jeff finished first but waited for her at the elevator. “I’m in seven fourteen,” he told her as they stepped in.
“Three eleven for me.”
He punched the floor buttons, and they stood alone in awkward silence for a moment as the elevator started its ascent.
It occurred to her they hadn’t made plans for tomorrow yet. “I guess we’ll need to leave about eight-fifteen tomorrow morning. Want to just meet me at the car?”
He nodded as the door slid open on her floor.
“Okay, then.” She flashed him a smile. “See you later.” She stepped out.
“Mags.”
Jeff followed her out of the elevator, allowing the door to close. “I thought...uh...why don’t we have dinner together?”
Her stomach squeezed at the thought. “Oh, wow, Jeff. I don’t know...”
He rubbed the back of his neck before shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’s been a long time. We have a lot to catch up on.” His mouth rose at one corner. “Hell. It might actually be pleasant.”
“I...um.” Maggie searched for a reason other than the obvious—that they were exes and, as a rule, exes didn’t have pleasant dinners together.
“I have a reservation at eight at a fabulous restaurant just across the street. I should be able to add one easily.” He nodded toward her feet and grinned. “You won’t have to walk far.”
Her stomach chose that moment to let out a rumble, and Jeff tilted his head. “Was that a yes?”
She shook her head in resignation. “Oh, what the hell. Okay.”
The elevator door opened with a ding, and Jeff stepped back inside. “Meet you in the lobby at five till?”
She nodded and waited until the door closed before letting out a verbal groan.
Oddly, her stomach didn’t answer back. No, it had drawn much too tight to make a sound.
She didn’t have much of an appetite anymore, either.
* * *
“FINALLY!” ROSEMARY RUSSELL stopped walking long enough to retrieve her phone from the purse swinging on her arm.
“I told you she’d call.” Her husband, Eli, sounded completely cool and unbothered. But all through supper at the diner, she could tell he’d been just as worried as she was about their daughter and grandson’s trip today. She couldn’t imagine driving all the way up to Chicago with that horrible traffic. They’d expected the call hours ago.
She’d just about worried herself sick.
When she pulled the phone out, the caller ID confirmed it was, indeed, Maggie, thank heavens!
“Hello, sweetheart.”
“Hey, Mom.” Maggie sounded out of breath. “Just wanted to let y’all know we got here in one piece.”
“How was the traffic?”
“Worse than you could ever imagine.”
That wasn’t what Rosemary wanted to hear. “Oh, dear. And you have to drive in it for two more days.”
“I did fine.” A door closed and Maggie gave a long sigh. “Jeff offered to take the wheel—I’m sure my driving wasn’t suiting him—but I was determined to prove to myself I could do it. I’ll be making this trip a lot over the next four years. I might as well get used to it.”
“How is Jeff?” Rosemary shot a glance Eli’s way and watched his jaw muscle tighten at the mention of their former son-in-law.
“He’s fine,” Maggie said, then added what sounded like an afterthought. “I guess. I mean, he looks great, but we haven’t had much time to talk. I was too nervous to be much of a conversationalist with the traffic and all. Oh, but, Mom, you should hear him and Russ together. It’s hard to tell their voices apart.”
“Did Russ do okay? With the other boys?” Rosemary had fretted about that, too—that her grandson from tiny Taylor’s Grove, Kentucky, would be thought of as a hick by his big-city teammates.
“You should’ve seen him. Had them eating out of his hand before the meeting was over.”
Just like his dad at that age,Rosemary thought wryly. She supposed she should be grateful to Jeff for providing their grandson with a set of extrovert genes.
“I met the coach,” Maggie went on. “Seems like a good guy, and—” There was a sharp knock. “The bellman’s here with my bag, Mom, so I better go. I’m meeting Jeff for dinner.”
Rosemary’s heart gave a loud thump. “Oh, dear, Maggie. Is that wise?”
Maggie’s snort sounded forced. “I’m a big girl. I can handle Jeff Wells just fine.”
Rosemary wasn’t so sure. She bit back all the warnings suddenly pressing on her tongue. “Just be careful, Maggie. Watch out for...the traffic.”
“I will. Gotta go. Love you.”
Before she could get out a goodbye, the phone went dead. She slipped it back into her purse. “She’s having dinner with Jeff.”
“The son of a bitch.”
Eli responded to the news exactly the way he always responded to Jeff’s name when Russ wasn’t around. She hoped his blood pressure didn’t shoot up. “If Maggie and Jeff can get along around Russ, that’s a good thing, right?”
Eli’s face flushed bright red. “The son of a bitch left my daughter and his son and moved as far away across the country as he could. There’s no forgetting that.”
She agreed but didn’t say so. Images of the ninety-five pounds Maggie withered to after the divorce still haunted Rosemary. There was no forgetting that, either.
They were in front of their house, but Rosemary pointed toward the end of the block. “It’s such a pretty night. Let’s keep walking. It’ll help us work off that chess pie we just ate.”
Eli grumbled an agreement and kept walking, charging up Baxter Hill like he had to put out a fire.
Maggie and Jeff were only going to be together for two days, Rosemary fretted silently. During that time, they had to move Russ into his dorm, go on tours, follow the team on a round of golf, have dinner with the other parents.
There wouldn’t be time for sparks to fly.
But they were having dinner tonight.
Rosemary tried to relax. Her daughter was now a savvy adult, finally over the man who had shattered her life. A successful businesswoman. A widow. But, despite the eighty-six-degree evening temperature, a shiver ran up Rosemary’s spine.
She fought off what she hoped wasn’t a premonition, quickening her step to keep up with Eli’s long stride.
* * *
JEFF HADN’T ANTICIPATED conversation would come so easily. But catching up on their parents’ health and Maggie’s genuine concern about his sister Chloe’s aggressive form of multiple sclerosis had taken them swiftly through cocktails. A lighter mood consisting of stories about Russ kept them laughing through appetizers and salad. So, by the time the entrées arrived, the food and alcohol had loosened their tongues and smoothed the edge of their tension, though it still lurked around their table, in the dark corner.
The food at Spiaggia was even better than he’d expected. He’d done his research online and made the reservations a couple of weeks ago, hoping he and Maggie might have some time alone to discuss a few things he wanted to get off his chest.
But this afternoon, her frazzled manner hadn’t been very encouraging. First, she’d turned him down at the café, and if he’d told her the truth—that he’d already made reservations for two tonight—he wasn’t sure she’d have agreed. But he’d played it smart and acted as if this was all spur-of-the-moment. An approach that apparently worked because here they were.
“You really do look amazing. Pictures I’ve seen haven’t done you justice.” He tilted the conversation toward the more personal side. “I know I said that earlier, but I mean it. And that dress is stunning.”
The sleeveless black sheath with the round neck was classy without being overdone. It played nicely against the dark roots of her hair and the blond highlights and showed just enough cleavage to be enticing. Her hair was tucked behind her ears and hefty diamond studs winked at him in the light of the candles on the table.
He wondered if they had been a present from Zeke, which sent a pang of guilt through him. He needed to address that issue. The sooner the better.
“Thanks.” She shrugged, her fork paused in midair. “I threw it in at the last minute. I’m always afraid of not packing something a little dressy. This one’s great because the knit doesn’t wrinkle.”
Not to mention how it fit those curves.
She took another bite of her gnocchi with wild boar ragù, and his eyes were drawn once again to the full, luscious lips that closed around the fork.
A jolt of stiffness in his groin had him shifting in his seat. He took a drink of wine to ease the discomfort. It didn’t help much, but, combined with the Crown Royal he’d had before dinner, he found the liquid courage he needed to make the apology he’d been wanting to deliver personally for a long time.
“Mags.” He set the glass down and something about his manner must have clued her in. She rested her fork on her plate. “I wanted to apologize for not being there—”
She adjusted her napkin in her lap. “It couldn’t be helped, Jeff. Russ understood. We all understood. A ruptured appendix? You could’ve died.”
“Well, yeah, missing his graduation totally sucked,” he agreed. The subject would always be a sore one for him. “But that’s not what I’m apologizing for. I want to tell you how sorry I am I didn’t come to Zeke’s funeral.”
“Oh...that.” Her voice went small, and she bypassed her wineglass to grab a sip of water.
“I talked myself out of it...thinking about the awkwardness of being there with all your family. But I should’ve been there for Russ.” He reached across the table and laid his hand on top of hers. “I was a coward, and I’m sorry.”
He felt her hand tremble before she eased it from under his and rested it in her lap. “It’s okay. Really. Having Russ come out and spend that next week with you was smart. It got him away from...from my grief for a little while. It was the best thing for him.”
“Zeke must’ve been a great guy,” he continued. “Russ was sure crazy about him.”
Her chin quivered, and he could see the glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes. “Yes, he was...crazy about him.” She drew a long breath, her breasts swelling, pushing tight against the neckline of her dress. “Russ seemed fond of Jennifer, too.” She pointedly dropped the subject of her deceased husband. “He thought she might be the one for you.”
Jennifer.
Just the thought of the woman caused Jeff’s teeth to clench.
“Hardly,” he answered.
Maggie raised an eyebrow in unspoken question, giving him the opportunity to go on or not. “Jennifer was the jealous type,” he answered, and took a sip of his wine to get rid of the bad taste talking about the woman left in his mouth.
Maggie gave him a cool look, her mouth drawing into a smirk. “I’ve found it’s usually the man who gives the woman a reason to be jealous.”
A flare of irritation burned in Jeff’s stomach. “Maybe.” He nodded and shot her a defiant glare. “Yeah, you’re absolutely right. It was my fault, but I don’t give a rat’s ass. She was jealous of Russ.”
Her face sobered. “Oh. Sorry.”
“She didn’t want our summers ‘taken up by him.’” He emphasized Jennifer’s phrasing by making quotation marks in the air with his fingers. “Or our Christmases. She decided a two-week visit every other year would be more than sufficient. Can you imagine?”
“No, I can’t.” Maggie finally took another bite of her food, though with decidedly less enthusiasm than before.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get us off on a bad subject. We were having a good time before we started talking about all this. And it sounds like you do a much better job than I do at picking significant others.”
He’d meant to lighten the conversation with his self-criticism, but, to his horror, Maggie’s chin quivered again. And then a tear slid down her cheek...followed by another...and another.
“Damn, Mags. I’m sorry. I should’ve realized it would still be difficult for you to talk about Zeke. It’s only been...what? Three years? Let’s just drop it. How’s your gnocchi? Good?”
He was aware he was just talking to hear his head rattle at this point and not helping a damn thing. Maggie’s tears were coming harder and faster, though thankfully, silently. The tip of her nose brightened to hot pink.
“Can I pour you some more wine?” he offered, lamely, and then convinced himself to shut his damn mouth before he made things any worse.
Like things could be any worse.
Maggie’s body shook with the effort to bring her tears under control, and he sat and watched, helplessly shamed into silence.
When, at last, she could speak, she looked at him and shook her head. “Zeke wasn’t a great guy, Jeff. He wasn’t like everybody thought he was.” Pain flashed from the gorgeous green irises now rimmed in red. “Marrying him was the biggest mistake of my life.”
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_72340fc9-35a1-5d0b-a33f-21e84695b231)
MIXING LIQUOR AND the emotional roller coaster she was on today had been a major mistake. Maggie regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth.
“Did the bastard abuse you?” Jeff’s grip on his wineglass visibly tightened.
“No.” She rubbed the area over her right eyebrow where a rhythmic throb pulsated. Why had she brought this up now? “Never mind. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“But you did.” His mouth and eyes narrowed with insistence. “Now you have to finish.”
“I’ve never told anyone. Not even Mom.”
“I don’t know what this deep, dark secret is.” Jeff reached across the table, and this time he didn’t just lay his hand on top of hers. He grasped it and held on firmly. “My son was in that environment. I have a right to know what went on.”
“It wasn’t anything that ever happened around Russ.” She tried for an assuring tone, but his touch caused the breath she’d almost gotten under control to quiver erratically again. “You surely can’t believe I would ever allow anyone to lay a hand on him.”
“For God’s sake, Mags, tell me what we’re discussing here.” His grip became a near-squeeze.
If she’d used her napkin as a gag, which she now wished she had, her mouth couldn’t have gone any drier. A sip of water helped lubricate the passage of the words she’d swallowed so many times. “The last week Zeke was alive...two days before he went into the coma...he told me he’d been having an affair for quite some time. Five of the six years we’d been married.”
Sympathy softened Jeff’s stern look, but his shoulders sagged in obvious relief that this didn’t involve Russ. “Wow, that must have been staggering for you.”
She nodded. “He told me he was deeply in love with her and had planned to ask me for a divorce. But then the brain tumor was diagnosed, and it seemed foolish to put everyone through that additional heartbreak.”
“So why tell you at all?”
Maggie sipped some more water, giving herself time to decide if she could get through this. “He wanted to see her.”
Jeff released his hold and leaned back as if he needed to view her from a wider angle. “You didn’t...”
“Yeah, I did.” The lead brick that had pressed on her heart for three years began to crumble as she finally shared the horrific details she’d kept bottled up. “I called and told her he was asking for her. She took more than a little convincing...seemed bent on the idea that I was luring her down there to make a spectacle of confronting her in front of people. But she finally came, and I gave them several hours alone to say their goodbyes. I put a no-visitors sign on the door so they wouldn’t be interrupted.”
Jeff closed his eyes, and when he opened them he pinned her with a look that was a mixture of incredulity and disbelief. “Why?”
“Why not?”
“He was unfaithful and you rewarded him?”
“He was dying. I would hardly call that a reward.”
“But for you to be civil to her... Kind, even.”
She shrugged. It was difficult to explain why she had handled things the way she did. “Something was never right between Zeke and me. We got along. Had a good time together. He was good to Russ. But I think I married him more out of loneliness than love.” She stopped short of admitting there had never been the rush of adrenaline for Zeke the way there had been for him—even her reaction at seeing him today. The surge of primal pleasure that time and emotional pain could not erase. She paused for breath and shook some propriety back into her logic center. “I shouldn’t be discussing this with you. It’s too personal. You and I are practically strangers now.”
“We’ll never be strangers, Mags.”
“Well, maybe not strangers,” she acquiesced. “But thirteen years without face-to-face contact is a long time.”
His mouth rose slightly on one end. “Too long.” His tone brought a flutter to her stomach that she attempted to stymie with a gulp of wine. “So why didn’t you tell anyone? I mean, the sorrow and grief must’ve been unbearable. It might’ve helped to talk to somebody.”
“I considered talking to Mom, but that felt like a knee-jerk reaction, and it would only upset her. I thought about counseling, but, with him gone, the affair seemed like more of a testimony against me than him. It was hard to admit to myself, much less somebody else, that I’d made such a huge mistake. Again.” Her voice broke on the last word.
Jeff glanced away, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. She knew that mannerism. It was what he did when he was upset or displeased, and she felt the weight of that displeasure in her stomach.
Yeah, I failed at my second marriage, too. She didn’t have to say the words. She knew what he was thinking.
No longer hungry, she pushed her plate back and dabbed her mouth with her napkin.
“Do you want dessert?” Sure enough, Jeff’s normally rich tone was flat.
“No. I’m tired. I really just want to go back to the room and relax.” She tried not to show how disappointed she was with the turn things had taken. The pleasant night of catching up and easy banter had morphed into a queasy stomach and a brain that now felt like a tympani being pounded by dueling mallets.
The only relief came when Jeff paid the bill and she was able to escape into the open air. “Thanks for dinner. The food was delicious,” she said as they crossed the intersection by Oak Street Beach. The balmy breeze coming off Lake Michigan soothed her frayed nerves. Normally she would have wanted to linger but not tonight. Tonight she’d exposed too much, left herself vulnerable.
“You’re welcome,” he answered. “But what’s your hurry?”
She hadn’t realized how fast she’d been walking, not allowing her platform stilettos to hinder her determined gait. She slowed her pace, letting him keep up, not wanting to give the impression she was running from him. But when he drew close enough that their arms brushed, she sped up again—her body’s involuntary reaction to a dangerous stimulus.
The hotel doorman saw them coming and welcomed them again into the vast lobby.
“Do you want to have a nightcap?” Jeff indicated the lounge where a few dancers swayed to the beat of the slow, sultry tune crooned by a smoky-voiced singer.
Emphatically no, Maggie thought. Not with escape so close. But she managed a smile and a “no, thanks.”
Jeff shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “Well, I think I hear a drink begging to be savored.”
The ding of the elevator provided the perfect opening for a quick good-night. “Have a nice night, then. I’ll meet you here in the morning at eight-fifteen.” Maggie backed away toward the waiting car. “Thanks again for dinner.”
Jeff nodded but stayed where he was, his dark eyes trained on her until the doors closed.
It wasn’t until he was completely cut off from her sight that the breath she’d been holding since she’d first glimpsed him ten hours earlier finally made a slow exit from her lungs.
* * *
“MACALLAN 25. STRAIGHT.” The bartender placed the cut-glass crystal on the bar. The low lighting caught in the ornate design, twinkling like captured stars.
Jeff lifted the heavy glass and swirled the dark amber liquid, hesitating long enough to enjoy the smoky essence before the burn hit his lips, then his tongue and his throat. He usually went for the less expensive Scotch, but he needed something to help get the night back to the perfection it had started with. It had disintegrated quickly with the first mention of Zeke.
The bastard. Putting Mags through that kind of hell in addition to everything else she was going through at the time.
She’d shown remarkable fortitude. Admirable. And to never have told anyone—not even her mother—showed how much she’d changed since they’d split up...how little he knew about her now. It seemed odd now he thought about it, but he and his son rarely discussed the boy’s mother.
There was a time when Mags went straight to her mother with everything, which was convenient as her parents lived right next door. The arrangement had continually made him feel ganged up on. Whenever he and Mags argued, she always sought out her parents to support her side. And they never failed to take it.
“You get the prize for having the best taste.”
Jeff turned to the voice beside him. A guy, vaguely familiar and big enough to have been a linebacker for the Chargers, settled on the bar stool beside him.
“Nothing quite like The Macallan,” Jeff agreed, and held the glass up to admire the color again.
“Crown Royal on the rocks,” his companion said to the bartender and then turned back to Jeff with a sly grin. “I’m sure the Scotch is good, but I was referring to your wife. She wasn’t just the best-looking mom at the meeting today, she was also the youngest. Must’ve had your son when she was fifteen.”
“Nineteen,” Jeff corrected him. “And she’s not my wife. We’ve been divorced a long time.”
“Even better.”
The next sip burned Jeff’s mouth for an exceptionally long time.
“Spike Grainger.” The newcomer held out his hand. “My son Matt’s a freshman on the team, too.”
Jeff shook his hand. “Jeff Wells, Russ’s dad.”
The bartender set Spike’s drink in front of him, and he reached for it with his left hand. No wedding band.
A trickle squeezed through Jeff’s constricted throat muscles.
“Yeah, Russ’s mom—what’s her name?”
“Maggie.”
“Cute. The way she kept blushing when her stomach was growling.” Spike gave a hearty chuckle. “I saw you guys coming in together a few minutes ago. I assumed you’d been to dinner.”
The reminder of dinner sent Jeff’s mood further south. “We had.” He was being curt, but he already didn’t like Spike, whose presence was flavoring his Scotch in an unpleasant way.
“Been divorced a long time, yet you’re here together, making it work for Russ.” Spike took a gulp and smacked his lips in appreciation. “Good for you.”
“You divorced?” Jeff changed tactics and tried to shift the attention away from him and Mags.
“Three weeks. Married for twenty-four years. She’s on her honeymoon.”
Spike became as transparent then as the crystal in Jeff’s hand. The man was trolling—and Mags was in his sights. Hell, he’d been there himself. That giddy feeling of freedom came edged with loneliness and even a sense of desperation. For the first couple of years, he’d swung from woman to woman like a monkey making its way through the jungle.
Had Mags done that, too?
He shouldn’t care, but the idea pricked at his heart just the same. She was, after all, the mother of his son. He didn’t know much about her and those first two or three years. They’d talked every day, but her reports were always simply that—reports on Russ. They never just chatted about what was going on in their lives. He’d found out a little more, but not much, about Mags through Russ once their son had gotten old enough to make the daily calls himself. He was a talker, that one.
A sudden image of the drive from the airport flashed in his mind—Russ keeping up the constant chatter and Mags with her white-knuckle hold on the steering wheel. And her tearful confession at dinner.
She may be a grown woman, but, in a myriad of ways, she was still that small-town girl he’d known...and loved.
A long-dormant protective instinct kicked in as he swallowed the rest of his Macallan in one gulp and set the glass down on the bar. “Nice meeting you,” he lied as he pulled enough bills from his wallet to take care of his bill and a hefty tip.
“See you tomorrow.” Spike saluted him with his drink.
The irony of the situation struck Jeff full force as he walked to the elevator. He was here in Chicago to move his eighteen-year-old son into the thick of the metropolis. Russ had spent the past thirteen summers of his life in San Diego, along with various other times such as spring and Christmas breaks. The kid took to city life like a native, never the least bit fazed by the crowds or the traffic. Jeff had no qualms whatsoever about Russ’s being here.
Mags, on the other hand, was a different matter completely.
* * *
ROSEMARY COUNTED SILENTLY. Twenty-nine elephant, thirty elephant, thirty-one elepha—
Eli gave a gasp and started breathing again, falling quickly into his deep, rhythmic, room-shaking snore.
She closed the book she’d been reading and rubbed her tired eyes. Well, actually, she hadn’t been reading. She’d been turning pages for two hours, but the progression of the story hadn’t imprinted on her memory. Eli’s long periods without a breath had consumed her attention. The snoring wasn’t so bad. She’d gotten used to that forty years ago. But the snorting and the gasping, and the long periods of silence freaked her out. She was aware of the dangers of sleep apnea—had read on the internet how it could lead to all kinds of nasty stuff, including heart disease and stroke. Coupled with the high blood pressure her husband already took medication for, he was a heart attack waiting to happen.
And she wasn’t prepared for widowhood.
She saw what it had done to her daughter.
Poor Maggie. Her chest tightened at the thought of how much her daughter had already been through.
And now Russ had gone away to college—another reason to worry. And, of course, there was the Maggie/Jeff dinner that had niggled at the back of Rosemary’s brain all night.
She’d hoped Maggie would call back and tell her what had transpired, but she didn’t, and Rosemary wasn’t surprised, although it hurt a little.
She tossed the extra pillow onto the love seat and turned out the light, sliding down in the bed to get comfortable. Maggie used to talk about everything with her. But her daughter had become so withdrawn since Zeke’s death that she didn’t recognize her at times. Closing herself off from the world, grieving for Zeke in such a vastly different way than she had for Jeff. When Jeff left, she’d cried for days on end. Refused to leave the bedroom. Refused to eat. Talked about him incessantly—so positive he would come back, and they would start again.
She’d kept up that nonsense for years.
But losing Zeke affected her differently. She’d quickly sold their beautiful home on Kentucky Lake, and rather than moving back to Taylor’s Grove, she’d bought the old Morris farmhouse outside of town. She would talk about Zeke only if someone brought up his name—and then reluctantly. She never brought him into the conversation on her own.
She had seemed angry, which Rosemary knew was one of the stages of grief. She’d read that on the internet, too. But it certainly had gone on for a long time now. Too long. Maggie didn’t date. Didn’t do much of anything except work and spend time with Russ.
What would she do now that he was gone?
Eli’s breathing stopped again, and Rosemary began her ritualistic counting. She wasn’t sure why she counted. He was never impressed with the numbers she spouted the next morning. Tomorrow, over coffee, she would report to him that he’d held his breath for almost thirty-five seconds. He’d shrug and say, “So which do you want—snoring or silence? Because you complain either way.”
Her retort would be that she wanted him healthy.
What would she do without him? The previous question echoed in her mind. Maggie was young—could easily start over. But she herself was sixty-one and had been with the same man for forty years. She had no desire to start over. She could never love another man the way she did Eli. Could never love again, period. The thought made her shudder.
Was it her imagination that Eli’s color was off?
She slipped her phone from the bedside table and turned on the flashlight app, shining it down on his face—the man could sleep through a rock concert once he got horizontal. He looked so peaceful and relaxed but definitely a little grayish in pallor.
One eye winked open and glared at her. “What are you doing, Rosie? Checking me for fleas?”
“You’ve been holding your breath.”
“And you’re getting back at me by shining a light into my eyes? You trying to make me think a train is coming through our bedroom?”
“I wanted to check your color. You look kind of gray.”
“You’d be gray, too, if you had to live with you. Now turn off the damn searchlight.”
She turned it off and placed the phone back on the table, but not because he told her to do it. She was finished looking... Definitely gray. They would resume this conversation in the morning. She settled under the covers again.
“Rosie.” Eli’s tender whisper shimmied through the darkness. “Slide back over here, and I’ll make you hold your breath.”
She laughed and did as he asked, snuggling into the crook of his arm. He kissed her sweetly a few times then with more purpose, and her tiredness got tangled among the sheets as their excitement rose and the pace of their movements accelerated.
They didn’t take long. After forty years, there was no experimentation and nothing new. The new had been sorted through years ago. What worked was kept and had now become part of the routine. What didn’t work had been lost with no remorse. What remained was the best of the best, carefully chosen, deeply intimate and immensely satisfying.
Their sighs mingled as they held each other in the afterglow, and soon the familiar rumble that would become Eli’s snore began to take form.
Rosemary changed her tactic and began counting the breaths rather than the non-breaths. It made more sense to pay attention to what gave life to this man she adored.
She’d only gotten to seventeen when drowsiness caused her to lose interest. With his body spooning her back and his arm across her front, she felt warm and complete.
Life without Eli?
The thought induced another shiver.
She snuggled closer against him.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_b0c4f05d-67e8-5152-a7ef-3730c00e7d23)
“WE COULD’VE WALKED faster than this.” Maggie blew out a breath and cut her eyes toward Jeff in the passenger seat. “It’s only seven miles.”
He pressed his lips together as if he intended to give that some serious consideration, but then he shook his head. “I’m not about to walk seven miles in this heat unless I have a golf bag over my shoulder.”
Maggie snorted. “Some things never change.”
As on the previous afternoon, heavy traffic lumbered its way up Lake Shore Drive. Though she’d added the grumble for effect, Maggie didn’t really mind the slow ride. The morning sunshine and the excitement of being in the city—not to mention the company of the man in the car with her—had her blood pumping. She’d allowed herself plenty of time to relax this morning, eaten a hearty breakfast to chase away any growls her stomach might consider making and had chosen a pair of shorts she could wear with sneakers.
Yeah, she’d prepared herself for moving day and the ten thousand trips they would make back and forth to the car with Russ’s things.
What she hadn’t prepared for was the slam to her stomach brought on by Jeff’s smile when she’d stepped off the elevator. Or the delicious tingle his presence gave her in the close quarters of her car. She should find some comfort, she supposed, knowing a part of what they’d had still remained—a kind of validity that what they’d felt for each other years ago had been real. And maybe he felt it, too. The smile that had greeted her this morning had seemed genuine.
“Spike Grainger was in the bar last night,” Jeff said.
The comment came out of nowhere as the light turned green and traffic started moving at a faster but steady pace.
“Who?”
“Spike Grainger. His son Matt is one of Russ’s teammates. Anyway, he was pumping me about you.”
Oh, Lord! “You were discussing me with someone in the bar? Why?” She flipped the air conditioner to high and directed the vent toward her heated face.
“I didn’t bring you up. He did. I think he’s interested. But you need to be warned that he’s only been divorced for three weeks and his ex is on her honeymoon.”
Her ex-husband was trying to fix her up with somebody? Maggie bristled, not exactly sure why she found this extremely irritating—except that she’d shared some things with him last night that had left her feeling vulnerable. She certainly hoped she hadn’t come across as desperate. “Thank you, Mr. Matchmaker, but I don’t need your help finding a man.”
“I wasn’t helping you find a man,” Jeff bit back. “I’m helping you not find a man. The guy’s needy and on the prowl. I suspect he’s going to put the moves on you today, and I wanted you to be aware.”
“I told you about Zeke, so now you think I’m some pushover where men are concerned?”
“I didn’t say that, Mags.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I think Zeke was a bastard.”
“Let’s drop the Zeke subject, okay? I’m good. Things are good.” Her hands were aching again from gripping the steering wheel too tightly, just like yesterday. She let go with one and stretched her fingers as the silence continued for a couple of minutes.
“You dating anyone?” he asked.
When she’d first found out Jeff was coming to this orientation, Maggie vowed she wouldn’t get into all the subterfuge some exes seem to find necessary. She pretended to focus on the traffic as her mind contemplated whether or not this was something worth lying about to him. She decided it wasn’t. “No. I haven’t been out with anyone since...you know.” She stopped herself short of the conversation topic she’d just banned. “Oh, guys have asked,” she added. “I’ve just been too busy.”
“How is business, by the way?”
“Fabulous.” Not having to exaggerate about the hair salon she owned in Paducah brought a smug smile to her face. “I have ten stylists and four nail technicians now.”
Jeff’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wow, impressive.”
She’d always assumed Russ kept his dad as informed about life in Kentucky as he kept her about life in California, but maybe she’d assumed too much. “My best friend Emmy’s my assistant manager, so everything runs smoothly even when I’m not there. Time with Russ has been my top priority the past few years.”
“He’s a great kid, isn’t he?”
She glanced away from the traffic long enough to share a proud, tender smile. “The best.”
The car went quiet again, and then Jeff gave a cough that sounded forced. “Did you...um...” He gazed at Lake Michigan on their right. “Did you date much after we split up?”
“Not for years,” she admitted. It was the first open reference either of them had made to their divorce, and her heart squeezed in response. “And only a couple of guys before I met...Zeke.” Grrr! How many times was he going to come into the conversation? “What’s with all the dating talk this morning?” The question flashed in her brain, but she didn’t mean to verbalize it. Still, there it was. And there was the university, as well. She moved into the left-hand turn lane and miraculously caught the green turn signal.
“I never questioned Russ too much about you...or your personal life. Didn’t want him to think I was prying.”
Maggie nodded as she pulled into the parking lot and headed for a spot.
“But, now we’re together,” Jeff continued, “I realize how much I don’t know about your life, so I’m trying to catch up on those lost years. I figured the best place to start was the beginning.”
The beginning.
Dread dropped into her stomach.
“Those first few years after we split up may have been a beginning for you.” She cut the engine as her fingers found the door handle. “To me, they felt more like the end.”
* * *
THE WEIGHT OF Maggie’s last words stayed with Jeff all day. And while he tried to imagine that weight being carried on his shoulders, it sure as hell felt more like it was hanging somewhere inside his chest.
Years,she’d said. Not weeks or months. It was as if that one word had been engraved on a stone tablet and hung on an iron stake driven into his heart.
As soon as she’d uttered her comment, she’d leaped from the car and joined the other parents arriving for the tour. She’d also volunteered to join a different tour group than the one he was in—on purpose, he suspected. It was as if she didn’t want to be anywhere in his vicinity. And it wasn’t lost on him that Spike Grainger volunteered for the same group Mags had, taking up the last spot.
Everyone came back together for lunch, and Matt and Spike joined them at their table. As Jeff predicted, Spike grabbed the chair next to Mags. All through lunch, he laughed too loud and too long at her jokes, flirted outrageously and made a complete ass of himself.
Mags was friendly with the big brute, but she didn’t return his flirtation. In fact, Jeff thought he could almost read a hint of sympathy in her manner, but he wasn’t sure.
Time was when he would’ve been sure. He’d been intimately familiar with her every mood and every nuance of every mood. If she bit her bottom lip while they were making love, she wanted to play, but if she chewed her bottom lip while they were making love, she wanted him to take the lead and explore. And explore he always did.
The memory brought on an erection that came and went throughout the afternoon, springing to life at Maggie’s throaty laugh, lessening when he-man and his son came to help after getting Matt “all moved in in no time flat.”
They’d finally left two minutes ago, and their leaving had brought relative quiet to the room—although the hallway was still crawling with boisterous teenage boys.
Thank God he’s gone. Jeff tightened the last nut on the bunk/futon combo unit Russ and his roommate Blake had decided on. The kid from Des Moines seemed nice enough, but Russ’s loud-mouth ways would likely take some getting used to for the quiet kid. Of course, that went both ways. His son, an only child his entire life, would have to get used to sharing a room with someone. Jeff smiled at the thought.
“You look happy we’re almost done.” Mags shot him a grin as she unrolled a circular rug in the center of the room.
“I am that,” Jeff agreed. “I was also thinking about the learning curve our son will have to go through beginning tonight.”
“Yeah.” Her chuckle had a wicked edge that brought him to life again despite his fatigue. “He thinks it’s going to be like summer camp. He doesn’t realize how hard it can be to live with someone day in, day out...” She glanced away as her voice trailed off. “The room looks good, though.” She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand as she made a slow, tight circle, inspecting the afternoon’s progress. “Never thought we could make it look like this considering how it was when we started.”
Her tired eyes met his, and for a moment he thought she was going to say something else, but her gaze darted to the top bunk. “But that ghastly sleeping bag is a travesty when there were all those cute sheet sets to choose from.”
“This is easy to make up. No fuss. And just as easy to wash.” Jeff captured her gaze again and returned her tired smile. “And he couldn’t care less if his bedding is cute.”
Just then, Russ bounded into the room. “Look what I just scored out of the garbage!” He held up a leg lamp of The Christmas Story variety, except in miniature, tabletop size. “Gort says it works and everything.”
“Ick.” Maggie’s mouth creased sharply downward.
“Ah, c’mon, Mom.” Russ rubbed his hand delicately down the leg. “It’s a conversation piece.”
“Like conversation is something you need more of?”
“She has a point.” Jeff eyed the strange object that had his son captivated. “If it works, why would he throw it away?”
Russ shrugged. “Girlfriend gave it to him. Then she broke up with him yesterday, so he says he doesn’t want the reminder.” He set it on the desk and plugged it in. A flip of the switch and the fishnet-covered leg glowed dimly. “Fra-gee-lee! That is rich!” A couple of posters he hadn’t decided on yet lay rolled up on the desk. He grabbed them and tossed them onto the top shelf of the closet. “Oh, yeah. Hey, Matt was down at the garbage, too, so I asked if he and Spike would like to have pizza with us tonight. Hope that’s okay. I figured we owed them for all their help. They’re meeting us at the hotel.”
Jeff grimaced, but neither Maggie nor Russ noticed his displeasure. They both seemed fine with the idea of more time with Thor and Company.
“Besides, Mom.” Russ swung around and caught Maggie playfully around the neck—standing a full head taller than she—and gave her a soft nuggie. “Matt says his dad thinks you’re hot.”
“Damn it.” Jeff swore under his breath.
“I am hot...and sweaty.” Maggie’s swift poke at the ticklish spot in Russ’s ribs efficiently broke his hold. She stepped away and wrinkled her nose. “He’s pretty basic.”
Jeff wasn’t sure what that meant, but it didn’t sound like a compliment so it gave him a reason to chuckle.
“Go easy on him, Mom.” A movement in the hallway caught Russ’s attention. “Hey, Steeger,” he yelled, and bolted that direction.
Mags watched him and then turned to Jeff, eyes wide with wonder. “I’ve never seen him so hyper. It’s like he’s five again.”
“Basic?” he asked.
“Tries too hard...easy to see through.”
“Ah.” Jeff tossed his wrench back into the tool bag Spike had provided. “So you prefer the guy who plays it cool.”
She gathered up the stack of towels she’d folded and started toward the bathroom. “I prefer no guy at all.”
The heaviness in his chest became apparent again. “Mags—” He wasn’t sure what he was going to say—only knew he needed to say something, but Russ bounded back into the room.
“Can we go eat now? I’m going to gnaw on that leg lamp if I don’t get some food pretty soon.”
Maggie handed over her armload to him. “I can’t go eat like this.” She pointed at her top, which sported a dirty tread mark from where she’d moved an armload of sneakers. “And neither can you, Russ. Go shower. Now. You can make it a quick one.” She picked up one of the boxes that needed to go back to the car.
“I’ll get that, Mags. It’s too heavy for you.”
Jeff reached for it, but she held on and rocked back on her heels. “I’ve got it. Russ can get the big one after he showers, and you can bring the other small one. I’ll have the car by the front door in ten minutes. And don’t forget Spike’s tools.” She disappeared into the crowded hallway.
“Spike has her thinking all the rest of us are wusses,” Russ grumbled as he headed for the bathroom.
“Humph. I was thinking the same thing,” Jeff answered, though too low for his son to hear. The bathroom door closed and he finished what was on his tongue. “I wonder which ranks lower in her estimation—a wuss or a basic?”
* * *
DID CHICAGO HAVE a downtown salon that stayed open late? Maggie glanced down Rush Street. With all the testosterone she’d been exposed to over the past three hours, her upper lip probably could stand a good waxing.
“So I see the puck headed right toward us.” Spike was in the middle of one of his many tales of heroic deeds. “And I throw myself in front of her and catch the damn thing in the back, right below my shoulder blade. Luckily, with all the layers I had on, it didn’t break anything. But I ended up with a bruise this big.” He held his hands out and cupped them to form a circle the size of a salad plate. “The doc said if I was an average-size guy, like you—” he gave a curt nod in Jeff’s direction as they walked “—it might’ve paralyzed me...or worse, if it had hit my temple.”
A hit to the mouth might not have done too much damage. Maggie kept her thought to herself.
“Oh, hell, Grainger.” Jeff pointed his arm in silent direction to make the turn onto Walton. “If the damn puck had hit you in the head, it would’ve ricocheted off.” The tightness in his jaw told Maggie he’d said it only half in jest, but Spike guffawed.
“Good one, man.”
She felt certain her presence—walking between the two men—was the only thing that saved Jeff from a hearty pounding on the back.
“I’m glad we decided to walk.” She changed the subject, trying to move the two fellows beyond the juvenile pissing match they’d fallen into somewhere around the time the salad had arrived. “Giordano’s has to be the best pizza I’ve ever had, but—”
“You think Giordano’s is good?” Spike’s mouth was moving again. “You ought to taste the pizza at this little tavern down the street from where I live. They have this one that’s loaded with all kinds of meats and cheeses...”
Maggie allowed her mind to race a half block ahead to the stoplight. And the lovely sign atop The Drake that screamed Freedom!
She glanced at her watch. They’d put the boys in a taxi back to their dorm right after they left the restaurant. Since traffic was light, Russ might be back at his place already.
Tomorrow wouldn’t be quite so busy, thankfully. Hot dogs and burgers at 11:30, followed by a four-man golf scramble. And in the evening they’d have a light family dinner sponsored by the team. Then she’d say goodbye to her precious boy-child until his first trip home, which wouldn’t come until Thanksgiving. Her eyes blurred, and she blinked away the tears.
“—carriage ride, Maggie?” Spike was pointing to the horse-drawn carriage stopped at the corner they were about to cross.
She rewound his question in her head. He was asking if she wanted to go on a carriage ride. And, while the idea was appealing, she couldn’t bear to stay in Spike’s company any longer than she had to. “It sounds lovely,” she answered. “But I don’t think I’m up for it. Thanks, though.”
He shrugged.
The walk signal came on, and they stepped off the curb. She felt both men’s hands touch the small of her back at the same time. She also felt the simultaneous jerk when their fingers touched and their hands dropped back to their sides. She made it all the way across the street unassisted...and somehow managed to contain her laughter.
Considering how talkative he’d been all through dinner, Jeff had become uncharacteristically quiet as they neared the hotel, uttering only that one cut-down to Spike. Something was bothering him. Probably tomorrow’s goodbye, if she were guessing.
Spike was never at a loss for words, though. Her dad would describe him as the type whose “mouth runs like the clatter bone of a goose’s ass.” As soon as they entered the hotel lobby, he pointed to the lounge. “How about a drink?”
“Not for me,” she answered. “I left my phone in the car, so I’m going to go get it, then head for my room.”
Jeff’s head jerked toward her, and he gave her a hard look. “You can’t go to the garage at night by yourself. I’ll go with you.” He slapped Spike on the arm. “And then I’m going to hit the sack, too. Enjoy your Crown Royal, man. See you tomorrow.”
Alone with Jeff? Gah! She’d seen this coming and tried to avoid it all day. Sure as shootin’, he was going to ask her about her answer this morning. She’d seen the next question in his eyes all day and had been careful not to be alone with him. She needed to have her answer formulated.
He was going to ask why she waited years to date after their split. Not that it was any of his business. But this was Jeff—telling him that would only make him suspect the worst. Of course, the worst was the truth. But how could she admit she’d carried the torch for him far too long? That she’d made a fool of herself—so certain he’d come back and want to be a family again? Had worked long and hard to get over him, and yet she had only, during the past few years, finally felt free of him?
“You don’t have to go with me,” she said as they waited for the elevator.
“Yeah, I do.”
The doors opened and relief flooded her to see several people headed the same direction. But it ended quickly as the small crowd dispersed in different directions when they reached the garage level. Her large SUV wasn’t far from the door, so maybe, if she walked fast, she could keep a light chat going until—
“Mags, you ran from the car this morning because you knew what I wanted to ask you.” Jeff took her elbow and pulled back to slow her pace.
So much for light chatter.
“No use in dredging up the past, Jeff.” She hit the button on her key fob to unlock the car door.
“But I need to know. Did you not date for years because of me? Did I make you distrust men?”
He didn’t suspect...which, of course, could only mean he hadn’t gone through what she had.
That realization pinched her heart enough to leave a bruise.
She gave a thoughtful pause as she opened the door to retrieve her phone from the console. She slipped it into her purse and closed the door, then turned to meet his earnest gaze. “You didn’t make me distrust men,” she answered honestly. “I distrusted myself.”
A flicker of relief shot from his dark eyes, followed quickly by a shadow. She nodded toward the elevator and started moving in that direction. “I couldn’t risk failing again.” Keeping control of the conversation before he could ask any more questions seemed like her best option now. “Too much depended on my being successful. I had a child to take care of and a career to think about.” She stopped as the elevator door opened, relieved to find the car empty this time.
A short ride to the third floor, and this would be over.
They stepped in and Jeff punched the buttons as she continued. “I wasn’t sure I was capable of handling those things, so I couldn’t even think about throwing a relationship into the mix.” This wasn’t as difficult as she’d thought. Everything she was saying was the truth—she was simply leaving out a few details.
“And once I opened the salon, there was yet another thing demanding my time.” Her stomach gave a jolt as the elevator came to a stop on the third floor. Jeff stepped out with her, just as he’d done the previous afternoon, only this time he started walking with her to her door.
“Something you said last night at dinner kept me awake.” His voice was low as they made their way down the hallway. “And, coupled with what you said this morning, it’s bothered the hell out of me all day.”
“What did I say?” Her spine had pulled into a tight curve at the touch of his hand, pressed absently to the small of her back as they walked. When they reached her door, her shoulders were squared as she turned to face him.
“It was the part about admitting to yourself you’d made a huge mistake. Again.”
“O-kay...?”
His hands gripped his hips, and he shrugged. “You can’t think we were a mistake, Mags. If we were a mistake, that makes Russ a mistake.”
She leaned against the door, closing her eyes to the raw emotion in his. “You’re right. Zeke was a mistake, but referring to us that way was a poor choice of words.”
She heard the rustle of his movement and opened her eyes to find him pressing a forearm against the door frame, his eyes hooded with doubt.
“Russ is the best thing that ever came into my life.” His voice was heavy with emotion. “And I know it’s been difficult for you. But I want you to understand that it’s not been easy for me, either. Being so far away from him—not being able to see him every day—has been hard on me.”
The sincerity in his eyes pulled at her heartstrings. She reached up to touch his face in a motherly fashion, to console, the way she would with Russ when she saw that same expression on his face. But as soon as her palm connected with his cheek, the touch became something else entirely—something not at all motherly. It became a lover’s caress as his heat scorched her, sent tingles through her arm and into her chest...down into her belly and lower.
The look in his eyes changed in an instant.
He felt it, too.
Electricity charged the atmosphere around them, encapsulating them in its trembling heat. Her eyes held to his steely gaze like a magnet. He leaned in slightly, and she pressed her back against the door but found no escape. Her hand, still on his cheek, should be pushing him away. So why did it slide around to the back of his neck and pull him closer?
The world slowed as his mouth neared hers, and she licked her lips in anticipation. She closed her eyes at the last second, allowing this moment to take center stage in her mind as it had so often in her dreams. The tenderness of his lips, the familiar sweetness...the flutter in her stomach that all too soon would become an aching need.
She’d entered a danger zone and was much too old and wise now to ignore the signs.
Sliding her hand from the back of his neck to his chest, she didn’t push him away, but did apply enough pressure to let him know this needed to stop. In answer, he removed his mouth from hers slowly but didn’t straighten, staying close enough that his breath continued to feather across her lips, warming them with the caress.
“Russ was never a mistake,” she whispered. “But letting this go any further would be.”
She felt the burst of air from his disgruntled sigh, but he stepped back, buckling his chin and giving her a nod.
“Good night, Mags.” He touched her cheek with the back of his finger.
“Night.”
She made short work of getting into her room, barely making it to the bed before her knees buckled under the weight of the moment.
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_bf8cf8b8-0d31-5961-b455-4c95726c707a)
“YOU HEARD ANY more from Maggie?” Eli doused his third cup of coffee with heavy cream and stirred it, changing the hue from black to tan.
Rosemary thought Eli’s color seemed slightly better this morning than yesterday. She finished off the remains in her own cup and set it down with a sigh and a shake of her head. “No. And I know she must be upset. Yesterday was the day they moved Russ into his dorm. That had to be hard on her.”
“You think being around the son of a bitch is hard on her, too?” The cream must have cooled Eli’s coffee quickly because he swallowed half the cup in one gulp.
“Don’t drink so fast.”
“Don’t tell me how to drink my coffee.” He picked up the cup and gulped down the rest, just out of spite, she was sure.
“I hope it’s not hard on her. She’s known for a couple of months she and Jeff would be up there together. That was plenty of time to get her head prepared.”
Eli stood, pulled the cap from the pocket of his overalls and flipped it onto his head to cover the mop of silver hair he still sported. He adjusted the bill so that it covered his heavy, still-black eyebrows. “Not her head I’m worried about,” he drawled.
Rosemary pushed back in her chair and directed a withering glare his direction. “Shame on you, Eli Crenshaw Russell! That’s your daughter we’re talking about.”
He stepped toward her and braced one arm on the table and one on the back of her chair. Then he leaned down until his twinkling blue-gray eyes were even with hers. “I was referring to her heart, you dirty old woman.”
“Oh.” She saw the twitch of a grin at the corner of his mouth right before he kissed her heated forehead.
“Gotta go.” He patted the top of her head as he straightened. “Those tractors aren’t going to fix themselves.”
Rosemary leaned her head back, stretching those darn neck muscles that always seemed so tight these days. “But somebody else could fix them. Let’s retire, Eli. Let’s take that money we’ve worked so hard for all these years and spend it seeing some of the world...like we always promised ourselves we’d do.”
Eli had started toward the door—her words didn’t even slow his stride. They never did. “We’ll do that, Rosie. Someday.”
“Someday,” she muttered as she cleared away the breakfast dishes. “Always someday.”
Maggie was so much like her dad. She used to say the same thing to Zeke when he wanted to travel, which he did often. He’d usually end up going by himself while she stayed home and ran the salon. Look where it got her. The money she made and saved? What good was it now? He was gone and their chance of doing things together ripped away in the blink of an eye.
Maggie was too much in her thoughts, and Rosemary wasn’t going to get anything done until she talked to her daughter. She chose the wall phone, preferring to use it rather than the cell phone, which she was sure was causing all these tumors in the mouth and brain she’d heard about recently.
“Hey, Mom.” Maggie sounded more chipper than Rosemary had expected. Not a good sign. That meant she was forcing it, which inferred she was really upset.
“Hey, darlin’. Just wanted to see if things were going okay.”
Maggie’s sigh reduced the pretense a smidgen. “Things went all right yesterday. But I’m not much looking forward to today.”
“I knew you wouldn’t be. That’s why I called. To let you know we love you and are thinking about you.”
“Thanks. That’s sweet.”
There was that uncharacteristic silence Rosemary detested.
“And how are you and Jeff getting along?”
“Fine. No problems.” Back to forced chipper, which set off alarms in Rosemary’s head.
“Well...glad to hear that.”
Silence again.
“Russ and Jeff are playing in the golf scramble today. Each team member was allowed to choose a partner. I backed off, figuring Russ would rather have his dad on his team.”
“What a shame you can’t play, too.” Rosemary tried to encourage the conversation by showing sympathy. “You enjoy the game. And you’re good.”
“Yeah, but this is a competition Russ wants to win. Jeff will give him the best chance. There’s this guy Spike—his son’s on the team. He’s always bragging about how great he is at everything. I think our guys are out for his blood, so I hope they draw a good pair to team up with.”
Maggie’s short laugh sounded more relaxed, but our guys was an interesting word choice.
“So what are you going to do while they’re playing?”
“Oh, I’ll follow along. I guess that’s what all the extra parents will do.” Now her voice sounded normal—maybe the mom-call had worked its magic, after all.
Rosemary spied Eli’s cash box sitting on the kitchen counter where he’d forgotten it. “Well, I won’t keep you. I know you have a busy day ahead.”
“Yeah. I need to get moving.”
“Me, too. Your dad forgot his cash box. Love you. Give Russ hugs.”
“Okay. Love you, too. Hugs to Dad.”
They hung up and Rosemary realized she didn’t know any more about how Maggie was handling being around Jeff than she had yesterday. Her daughter was being very tight-lipped about her ex, which didn’t bode well by Rosemary’s way of thinking.
She snatched up the cash box and headed into the August morning air, already heated and damp with humidity. The pole barn Eli used as his machine shop sat at the back of their large piece of property. She was in no hurry as she followed the gravel lane back to it. A chicken snake slithered across the path, several yards ahead, leaving a weaving trail in its path.
“Snake in the grass.” She chuckled, remembering the epithet Eli had first used in reference to Jeff before he’d settled on son of a bitch.
She’d been fond of Jeff when he and Maggie were dating, and once they’d gotten married, he’d tried hard to man up. They’d just been too young and had too many things stacked against them. But he’d broken her daughter’s heart—that she couldn’t forgive.
Chicken snakes were easy to piss off and quick to bite.
Yeah, that pretty much summed up the Jeff she remembered.
The shadow of the pole barn brought instant cool to her sweaty back, and she stopped a moment to enjoy the sensation. No sound came from the barn. The eerie silence sent her into a near-jog.
The sight that met her eyes when she passed through the oversize garage door brought her to a complete stop.
“Eli? What are you doing?”
Eli’s jumping jacks came to a halt, and he swung around toward her, surprise giving way to sheepish in a flash. “What do you mean, what am I doing?” He was winded and gasping for breath, face red from exertion. “Can’t a man exercise without being chastised for it?”
She made no attempt to keep the suspicion out of her voice. “You work hard. And except for walking, you’ve never exercised a day in your life.”
“Well...I decided to add jumping jacks to today’s regimen. Now get on back to the house and leave me alone.” He took the cash box from her and turned his back in dismissal.
“Jumping jackass, if you ask me.” She sneered and headed back to the house.
His low chuckle followed her retreating backside, and she allowed a smile since he couldn’t see her face.
Eli partaking in calisthenics?
That dog didn’t hunt.
Something was amiss.
* * *
MAGGIE’S BODY HAD become a battle zone...courtesy of Jeff’s kiss last night. Okay, it wasn’t only his kiss. She’d been a more-than-willing participant. In fact, she may’ve been the instigator, Lord help her.
Had she lost her freaking mind?
Maybe so. It kept wandering off of its own accord, breaking free of the reins she’d held so tightly for years.
Even now, after spending the afternoon traipsing around a golf course with Spike filling her ears so full she thought her head would burst, her brain should’ve been focused on the upcoming goodbye with her son. Instead, it looped continually back to the feel of Jeff’s lips on hers, the sizzle that snaked through her belly at his touch. The scene had become a recurring dream that blindsided her anytime she closed her eyes either last night in the dark or today in broad daylight.
Or even now as the dinner was coming to a close.
“And, of course, the top honors go to the team of Grainger/Wells, coming in with a score of twelve under.” Coach Brimley handed out the cheesy plastic trophies to the four-man team. They accepted graciously, then Russ gave his trophy a noisy smooch, which brought a laugh from the crowd. For the millionth time that day, Maggie was reminded of the kiss she and Jeff shared last night.
Definitely trophy worthy.
She had yet to talk to Jeff about it, but she would as soon as they had a moment alone. She’d learned the hard way with Zeke that the things you didn’t talk about were the ones that came back to haunt you. And, although her dreams last night and her daydreams today had been much too pleasant to be considered haunting, she knew they would come back to bite her in the ass.
The applause died down, the coach made his final remarks, and when the crowd started moving, Maggie’s heart pinned her to her seat and stymied her movements.
Hold yourself together, Mom. She read the unspoken plea in Russ’s eyes as he crossed the room to her.
Somehow she found the strength to stand up and meet him. He leaned down and enveloped her in a tight hug.
“I’m proud of you, little man.” His hold tightened at her words. “Not because you won today. I’m proud of you every day—of the man you’ve become.”
“Love you, Mom.” His voice broke like it had so often when he was going through puberty.
His hold loosened, and he stepped back. She wasn’t quite ready to let go just yet, but when a second body pressed against her side, she realized he was making room for Jeff in a three-way hug. She fought back another wave of tears, and for a long moment, they stood holding each other as a family—the way they could’ve been all along if life hadn’t had other plans.
“Y’all gonna walk me to my room?” Russ placed a kiss to the top of her head, which she shook in answer.
“I think that will be too hard. Let’s just step outside and make it quick and relatively painless.”
Russ never let go of her or Jeff as they threaded their way through the crowd that now felt more like a funeral than a celebration.
On the sidewalk, Russ let go of his dad and clutched her tightly again. “You going to be okay?”
“I’m okay,” she lied. Lord, this was so much harder than childbirth. Back then, she’d been numb when the worst of the contractions had hit. But this felt like someone was digging out her heart with a plastic spoon and no anesthesia. “You be good. Be careful. Play nice and watch crossing.” She added the signature line she’d used throughout his childhood, which brought a strangled chuckle from them both. Her nose was clogged with unshed tears, and just when she thought she would suffocate from the high pressure area in her chest, he let go and turned to Jeff.
The pats on the back were much harder between the two of them than previously. She suspected man pats were meant to inflict a touch of pain that somehow reminded them of their manhood...or maybe provided an excuse for a tear to escape.
When Russ wiped a hand down his face, it was almost her undoing.
One more quick hug. A peck to his cheek and a pat to his belly. She couldn’t hold herself together much longer. “See you in November.”
“Yeah. And I’ll see you at Christmas, Dad.”
“Take care.” Jeff gave a soft pat to his son’s shoulder, then he took Maggie’s arm and swiveled her toward the parking lot. “Let’s go.”
She should be irritated Jeff was taking charge, telling her it was time to leave her son. But her feet wouldn’t have moved without his prodding.
“I’m driving.” He held out his hand, and she relinquished the keys without dissension. Spike waved to them as he got into his car. He was making the drive back to his home tonight—Maggie wished she could do the same. The hotel room would feel lonelier than ever.
But then, so would home.
She made it to the car, through the buckling in, the starting of the ignition and all the way to the point where Jeff was about to pull out of the parking lot. And then the tears erupted from her.
Jeff whipped the car into the nearest parking place and they came to an abrupt stop. Her sight was so blurred she couldn’t see him, but she felt his arm around her shoulders pulling her against him. She sobbed into his chest.
“He’s going to be fine, Mags,” he whispered. She nodded, but words wouldn’t come yet. “You’ve done such a great job. He’s well-adjusted. Has a great personality.”
“But the house is going to...to be so...so empty with him gone,” she blubbered.
“It’s not like he’s never coming back,” Jeff soothed, stroking her hair. “He’ll be home in a little over three months.”
“But things will never be the s-s-ame. This is the start of him being...being gone for good.”
Jeff dabbed at the tears with a tissue from the box in the backseat. “You know what I think?” She shook her head. “I think we should be celebrating.”
She straightened, taken aback by his declaration. He cupped her cheeks, directing her gaze toward his with hands that were warm and gentle. Being with someone at that moment felt nice.
“I mean it, Mags. We’ve done a hell of a job with this kid. We should be proud of who he is, who we’re sending out into the world. He’ll make it a better place.” Then he released her and shifted the car into Reverse. “We’re going back to the hotel and celebrating.”
Maggie was in no mood to celebrate and planned on heading to her room as soon as they got there. Surprisingly she was able to get her tears under control during the drive, and by the time they got to the lobby, she was almost herself again—except for the puffy eyes. And the thought of going upstairs to her empty room was no longer appealing. So when Jeff took her hand, she allowed him to lead her into the lounge to a table in the shadowy back corner with a high-backed love seat. It was dark enough she didn’t feel conspicuous about her red eyes and nose, and cozy enough to relax.
A few couples were taking a turn on the floor, dancing to the pleasant melodies of the soloist with the smoky voice and her accompanist. When the server came to take their order, Jeff didn’t ask her preference.
“We’ll have a bottle of Pol Roger Brut Réserve and two glasses,” he said.
“A whole bottle of champagne?” Maggie asked as the server walked away. “That’s a little much, isn’t it?”
Jeff grinned, his white teeth gleaming against his tanned face, made darker by the dim lighting. “Only three glasses each. And we’re not gonna gulp them. We’re going to sit here and savor them for as long as we want.” He cocked his head in question, his gaze flitting over her face. “You better now?”
“I’m okay.”
“Good.” Her hand lay on the love seat between them and he patted it lightly. A couple of hours ago, that touch would have sent a shock wave through her. But saying goodbye to Russ seemed to have desensitized her, leaving her a little numb. Jeff pointed out the window to the street beyond. “What a shame. You came all the way to Chicago and didn’t have a chance to shop the Magnificent Mile.”
“I actually had a couple of hours this morning. While you and Russ were playing your practice round, and having man time with Spike, I was hitting the shops.” She tried to sound contrite, but she couldn’t keep the grin from her face when Jeff cringed at the mention of Spike. “All you two got were sore ears and a plastic trophy. I scored a dress, two pairs of capris and three pairs of shoes.”
His face sobered, and he took a long breath. “Kind of like old times. Me slaving in the hot sun while you shop.”
What a low blow! Immediately, Maggie went on the defensive, her spine stiffening, bracing for combat. But then she saw the edge of his mouth twitch. He was toying with her. Well...she could play, too. “Really like old times. You on the golf course. Me left to my own entertainment.”
He pinned her with a hard look, but then both corners of his mouth twitched, and he dissolved into laughter. “We were quite a pair, weren’t we?”
She nodded her smiling agreement just as the server arrived with their order. The young woman opened the champagne discreetly—no big fanfare to draw attention to the dark corner—and filled the two glasses.
Maggie leaned forward on her elbows, watching the bubbles as they caught the light and danced their way to the top. “It looks like some kind of magic potion.”
“It is.” Jeff picked up the two glasses and handed her one. His gaze was direct, his eyes soft. “Drinking this will wipe away all the bad times and help us remember only the good. Like Russ...and last night’s kiss.”
Maggie’s heart skipped a beat—apparently she wasn’t so numb, after all.
Jeff raised his glass as one of his eyebrows arched in both question and challenge.
Maggie tipped her glass, touching the edge to his. “To the good times—past and future.”
* * *
MAGGIE’S WORDS SENT an impact through Jeff that left a crater the size of Lake Michigan, which instantly filled with desire. The kiss last night had lit the fuse, and all day he’d been affected by the slow burn. He’d managed to throw the energy into his golf game, crushing the ball with his driver at each tee box, playing like he’d never played before.
But now, it was Maggie he wanted to crush...in the most tender of ways. But he couldn’t simply suggest they go up to one of their rooms and get it on, even if that was precisely what he wanted to do. This was a special night—the kind that came once in a lifetime. He would make it last.
The champagne truly was a magic elixir. He watched it bring a sparkle to Maggie’s eyes and a blush to her cheeks after just one glass. But when a girlish giggle bubbled out of her during one of his stories that wasn’t that funny, it gave him pause. Getting her drunk wasn’t the plan. This was a night to make memories—he wanted them both to remember it come tomorrow. He ordered a fruit-and-cheese plate to give them a reason to slow down the drinking.
While they waited for the food, the pianist broke into a jazzy swing tune. Dancing was one of the things they did together in college and were good at—second only to lovemaking. “Want to dance?” he asked, unsure if it was something she still enjoyed.
“Yes!” Her answer was nearly a squeal.
As they fell into the rhythm, the years fell away, and their bodies moved in perfect precision. They swung, they twirled, two hands clasped, then one hand and an underarm turn. Both of them anticipated the movements of the other as if the entire dance had been choreographed. Jeff was vaguely aware they were clearing the dance floor, but he didn’t let it stop them—tonight was all about the good times. Besides, he and Maggie had often done the same thing in college.
“Ready?” he asked as the song neared its end, and she nodded.
“Ready.”
He sent her into an impressive set of underarm twirls and prayed she didn’t get sick like she did that time at the frat house—their first clue she was pregnant. The last notes brought her tightly against him and he dipped her dramatically. The lounge went silent and then a hearty round of raucous applause exploded from every corner. To Jeff’s amazement—and slight embarrassment—the open passageways into the lobby had filled with onlookers as people had stopped to watch the impromptu show. With their arms around each other’s backs and a couple of waves to the crowd, they sauntered back to their table and anonymity, short of breath, panting and hanging on to each other for support.
“I haven’t danced like that in twenty years.” Maggie’s words were punctuated by gasps as she plopped onto the love seat, sliding over to make room for him.
“Me, neither.” The exertion from the dance had given him a momentary respite from the erection he’d sported most of the day, but Maggie’s breathless exclamation shifted it back into forward gear. He tried to ignore it as he poured them more champagne and relaxed against the back of his seat.
Maggie stacked some cheese onto a crostini and drizzled it with honey, then held it up in offering. Rather than taking it from her, he opened his mouth and she fed it to him. He closed his lips around the bite, deliberately catching the tips of her fingers in a small suck to gauge her response.
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t draw back. On the contrary, she allowed the tip of her middle finger to linger a fraction longer before dragging it down the middle of his bottom lip. Her lids drooped to half-mast, and she gave him a smoldering smile as she leaned back against one shoulder, her face and body turned slightly toward him.
His eyes dropped from hers to her mouth, mesmerized by the way her lips parted sensually, her tongue touching them, making them glisten in invitation.
He took a sip of champagne to wash away any of the lingering cracker, then leaned toward her, bringing his mouth to hers in answer. She left her hands as they were—one lying between them on the seat, the other relaxed in her lap. Her lips coaxed him deeper, parting for him, allowing small, sexually charged whimpers to escape, which sounded like both need and satisfaction.
And that kiss was just the beginning.
As they talked and laughed away the rest of the champagne, it was obvious that they both knew exactly how this magical night was going to end.
And so, during the last dance—a slow one that pressed her against him, making her aware of the effects she was having on his body—it came as no real surprise when she whispered to him, “Do you have condoms?”
“That’s a loaded question,” he whispered back, enjoying the way his breath on her neck caused her to shiver. “If I say no, where does that leave us? But if I say yes, it’s as good as admitting I went to the drugstore in anticipation of this after last night.”
Her cheek rested against his as her fingers played softly with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I hope the answer’s yes.”
“Then it’s yes.”
Her response was a contented sigh as she pressed her body closer to his.
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_96d8d6d1-f505-5d41-a099-031946f6d398)
KEY CARDS WERE such wonderful inventions. No fumbling with locks—just a smooth transition from outside to inside, public view to privacy...exes to intimates.
Somewhere deep in her mind, a voice screamed that she was making a huge mistake, allowing this man to crack the safe place she’d built to contain her feelings for him.
But she couldn’t hear the screaming over his soft murmurs when his mouth left hers for just a moment. They kissed long and hard, a frenzy of passion and excitement—as if there were no tomorrow.
Because, for them, there wasn’t.
Tomorrow wasn’t anything that needed to be discussed. Everything they desired had to be acted on tonight, then tucked away and forgotten.
Clothes came off hurriedly, amid giggles and kisses, and the condom package made its appearance. But just as she moved for the bed, seeking shelter under the covers, Jeff stopped her. “Not yet, Mags.” With his hands on her hips, he turned her to him. “I want to see you.”
His gentle tone and the way he nuzzled her neck eased her discomfort some, though not completely. He hadn’t seen her up close and personal in sixteen years. What would he think of her now? “I’m not twenty-one anymore,” she cautioned.
He tugged her hands away from where she’d positioned them across her breasts. “Neither am I.”
True, he’d added a few pounds—a thickness that only made him appear more solid. Her additional weight had become a soft roundness through the belly and hips that had been flat and tight, almost boyish, when last he’d seen them.
He guided her into the shaft of light that shone through the space where the drapes were slightly open. They stood for a while, naked amid the lights of the city, exchanging pleasant touches—he, using the backs of his fingers, she, smoothing her palms across his biceps and triceps, appreciating their toned definition. His caresses heightened the awareness of every nerve ending he touched.
“You don’t see how perfect you are.” His fingers brushed a path from her breasts to her neck and into her hair. He tilted her face up to meet his gaze. “Firm in the right places. Soft where you should be.” He covered her mouth with his in a scorching kiss, stealing the breath from her lungs.
The girl she’d been once upon a time stepped from her hiding place into the light. Beautiful. Cherished. Unlike Zeke, Jeff had never failed to make her feel that way in the bedroom, which was probably one reason it had taken so long to get over him.
But she had.
And now, here he was again.
This time the girl vanished as quickly as she’d appeared.
Maggie wasn’t someone who could be charmed into believing anything lasted forever. That girl had been replaced by a resilient woman who knew that some things lasted only one night. And those things had to be enjoyed when they offered themselves.
She consciously gave herself over to the moment, bringing her own heat to the kiss. An appreciative sound rose from the back of Jeff’s throat.
He backed up and sat on the end of the bed, breaking the kiss but running his hands over the soft mounds of her rear as he pulled her to stand between his parted legs.
His mouth, still hot from the kiss, burned a wet path across her stomach, pausing to let his tongue explore her navel, and then his lips moved upward to caress the underside of her breasts. He lifted them, kneading them gently as his tongue flicked along the crease.
It was a new touch for her, and she let her head fall back, mewing her pleasure, massaging his scalp with her fingertips, following his head anywhere he moved it.
His hands roamed her back while his mouth explored her front, sucking first one nipple then the other, making her ache in the most delicious way. As his mouth moved downward, she stepped back instinctively to give him access to other areas. He slid to his knees, flicking his tongue across her most sensitive spot, making her gasp in pleasure and thrust against him. But the urgency built up too quickly, became almost painful, and she stepped away suddenly.
Jeff’s head shot up, his dark eyes full of question.
“It’s been a long time for me. Not since Zeke.” She stopped. “Years.”
He stood and pressed against her. “What a waste of time.”
She smiled at the compliment, the ache between her legs lessening to bearable. This time, when she took his hand and led him to the bed, they lay down together, snuggling under the sheet. She intended to keep things slow. But after a few more deep kisses, his hands in constant exploration, growing bolder with each touch, she abandoned the plan, unable and unwilling to take responsibility for the actions of her body.
She guided his hand to where she needed him most, stroking him boldly to inflame him with the heat she felt until he finally admitted in a ragged breath, “Mags, I can’t take much more.”
She laughed. “Oh, thank God.”
He tore open the condom package he’d thrown on the pillow and made quick work of sheathing himself.
And then he hovered above her. The face she’d yearned to see for so long, positioned exactly where she’d fantasized it would be.
But this was no fantasy.
This was a chance to end things better than they had the first time.
* * *
MAGGIE WAS GAZING into his eyes, and damn if she wasn’t chewing her bottom lip!
At this point, sixteen years ago, he would’ve ignored the nuance. His rocket would have been fueled, loaded and ready for blastoff.
He lowered his mouth to hers, catching her bottom lip when her teeth freed it from their grip, then proceeded to nibble and suck on it himself. He felt her position shift slightly, readying for his entry. Then he watched her eyes widen in surprise when he shifted, too...away from the expected.
His lips caressed her neck before traveling to her breasts, devouring each one in turn. Then he continued down the middle of her stomach, across her navel, to the juncture of her thighs. Then lower.
Her gasps of pleasure as she raised her hips to meet him were almost his undoing, but he breathed through the initial panic and retained his control.
Lower he went, his tongue gliding along the inside of her thigh. He paused at her knee, lifting her leg just enough to flick his tongue across the crease at the back. Her pleasurable groan encouraged him to continue. She reached for him but could only graze the top of his head with her fingertips as he moved lower still.
He changed his course slightly, moving to the outside of her calf, skimming his tongue along the indentation of the muscle from the knee to the ankle. He covered her entire foot with kisses, sucked her high arch and each of her toes, before switching to the other foot and repeating the entire process on the other leg.
By the time he returned to the intimate V between her legs, she was panting, clutching the sheets tightly in her fists and thrusting toward him with a body language message he couldn’t ignore.
His own body was sending messages of its own, his erection so rigid now the condom might not be able to withstand the pressure much longer.
He eased his tip into her slowly, but she was having none of that. She rose on her elbows and shifted her body in his direction, enveloping him completely in her tightness. Her legs gripped him, pulling him deeper as she danced beneath him, making small circles with her hips as she thrust. She set an excruciatingly appealing rhythm that tore him between wanting to finish and wanting this to go on all night. Fast. Slow. Harder, softer. To the edge and back, over and over.
The feel of Mags and the taste of her on his lips. Their eyes locked. The musky scent of their mingled heat. The bed pounded the wall, percussion backup to their gasps, moans, grunts and pants. The heightened sensory experience was sending Jeff into space—a vacuum where there was no gravity and no time.
Only him and Mags.
Her hands flew over her head to grasp the spindles of the headboard, and he felt her back drawing into an arch as she cried out.
He let go then as his body exploded and imploded at the same time. He wasn’t aware he’d shouted until recognition hit that it was his voice ringing in his ears. Mags still held her head and neck in a stiff arch, and he could feel her muscles clenching him in their spasms. He pushed tighter against her, wringing every drip of pleasure for her he could.
Her eyes were squeezed shut, her breathy panting coming in spurts from her sensuous open mouth.
Nothing was more beautiful than a woman enjoying multiple orgasms.
Correction—nothing was more beautiful than Mags enjoying multiple orgasms. He’d never been with another woman who’d had them.
He watched the tension leave her body, mesmerized by the sight. Slowly, her head and neck relaxed, her mouth closed and her eyes fluttered open as if she’d been in a trance. He saw her eyes draw into focus and the languid, sexy smile form on her lips. “Mmm.” Her eyes closed and opened in a dreamy blink.
Jeff relaxed, too, lowering himself to the bed, on his side but still snuggled against her. He pinned her right arm under him where it had slid onto the pillow and propped his head on his hand so he still had a good view of Mags’s face. He traced her features with the tip of his finger. “God, you were good.” He kissed the end of her nose, then her mouth.
Her smile widened, but her eyebrows furrowed slightly and she groaned. “Four years was too long to go without that.”
Jeff shifted to let her move her arm, then slid down to rest his head on the pillow, drawing her against him.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then let his cheek rest on the spot.
“Sixteen years was too long to go without that,” he whispered.
* * *
JEFF’S WORDS CROUCHED in the front of Maggie’s mind, ready to pounce as soon as she came fully awake.
Of course, she’d heard him when he spoke them, and her heart palpitated, trying to conjure a reaction. But her body was so mellow after the amazing release she couldn’t get worked up about it. Sleep came quickly, hard and deep—mimicking what she’d experienced with him.
But morning broke through the parted drapes, bringing her to full consciousness, and her heart twisted in her chest as soon as she opened her eyes.
What did he mean, sixteen years was too long to wait?
Surely, he wasn’t having second thoughts about the divorce.
Oh, good Lord, what had she done?
The two of them still lay as they had fallen asleep. Sometime during the night, she’d turned more toward him, and now his dark chest hair tickled her nose. His free arm draped across her, hand resting at the small of her back.
Mmm—it all felt so good.
Too good.
Memories of what Jeff had done—and what she’d done in return—swirled through her emotions, mixing them into a strange morning brew.
She moved to sit up, but the arm that rested across her tightened.
“Where you going?” He pulled her tighter against him and she became aware of the erection pressing on the upper thigh that she had wedged between his.
She glanced at her watch. “It’s almost nine. Time to get up.”
“I’m already up.”
She heard the grin in his voice. “So I noticed. You always were a morning person.” She wiggled her leg only the slightest but felt his immediate response. His grunt of approval made her grin, too.
“And you were always an anytime person.” He nuzzled his nose into her hair, his warm breath warming her all over.
He was right. She had always been ready for him—anytime, anyplace. Things had been different with Zeke. Once, sometimes twice a week. She’d accepted the decline in her libido as part of the normal aging process. That theory didn’t seem to hold up, though, as she was already feeling vibes from simply waking in her ex’s arms.
“Do you have anything pressing today?” He humped her leg playfully, emphasizing his word choice.
She chuckled at his movements, but then sobered. “Only the long drive home.” She sighed. “And starting the process of getting used to being alone in the house for longer than two months.”
His hand caressed her rear, fingers dipping low enough to elicit a guttural sound from her. “See there. Nothing that can’t be put off for a little while—or until they run us out of here at checkout.”
He was spot-on. She had nothing she needed to get home to. But what would another round of sex with Jeff do to her emotionally? Send her into that battle again—the one she’d fought so long to win?
No. This time his leaving wouldn’t be a surprise. It was inevitable. She was forewarned and prepared.
And the time to think about the emotional impact of sex with Jeff had passed, barely heeded, hours ago. What difference would one more time make?
Or two?
“You’re right.” She withdrew her leg long enough to sling it across his and roll on top of him to a seated position. The sheet fell away, and the morning sunshine dispelled any chance of hiding under the cloak of darkness. But she didn’t care. She was who she was. And the way his eyes devoured her at that moment made her think who she was was pretty darn hot.
And so was he.
Despite his look of pleasure and surprise, sleep still lay heavy in his eyes and a thick growth of black stubble coated his lower jaw and mouth area. She well remembered the beard burn she used to get from their morning trysts.
So worth it.
She brushed the tousled hair off his forehead and patted his bristly cheek, which did indeed scratch when he turned to kiss her palm. “No use of the mouth until you shave,” she instructed.
He sat up, locking his hands behind her back. “Oh, really?” Using his tongue, he teased the tender area along the line of her jawbone.
A delightful shiver coursed through her. “So not fair.” She sighed, but leaned her head back farther.
“How about this?” He nibbled along the same path. “Is this okay?”
It actually was quite pleasant, since his tongue had already moistened the area. She moaned in response and dragged her long nails up his back, drawing a satisfying shiver from him. Other areas were becoming moist without any direct touch.
He loosened his grip enough to lean her back slightly, and nipped his way to the peak of her breast.
She arched her back, thrusting a nipple toward him to meet the sweet assault that never came.
He stopped, and the pause lasted long enough to make her aware something was up. She straightened and found him frowning at her chest. “Did I do that?”
She followed his gaze to the red splotches marking each place where his whiskers had made contact with her fair skin. She shrugged. “No biggie.”
“Yes, it is.” He took her firmly by the waist and tried to set her off his lap. “Let me up, and I’ll go shave.”
She pushed him back onto the pillow. “No way, bucko. Follow the rules and don’t use your mouth, and everything will be good.”
His mouth quirked on one side. “Just good?”
“Maybe just good.” She wiggled against him with her backside, lightly clawing at his chest and stomach. “Maybe worth waiting sixteen years for.”
“Nobody should have to wait for sex this good. Just think what a happy state our world would be in if everybody could have it like this all the time. War would be a thing of the past.” He grabbed a condom package from the table and ripped into it.
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